Frankly, he was surprised Caroline had turned out as normal as she had under the circumstances.

“Right now you’re asking yourself, how did she turn out the way she has when her grandmother is so prissy and uptight.”

He blushed. “I’m told I can be rude sometimes. But in my defense, I did keep it in my head. I can’t help it if you go and snatch it from my thoughts.”

She shrugged. “You’re not rude. I love my grandparents, but I wasn’t raised by them. I was raised by my parents and later by my dad’s people. Different philosophy. They did okay by my brother and sister.”

Mindy Lassiter was sort of prissy too, but Royal kept that to himself.

“Anyway, root worms? That sounds gross and not fun in any way. And you said your farm was organic now, so how do you deal with that when you can’t use chemicals?”

“There are some natural ways to deal with it. I spent most of the week pulling out the diseased plants. Had to burn those and hope the rest are not affected. There’s this stuff, you sprinkle it around the plant on the dirt and it cuts up any bug, worm, whatever, that tries to get past. Try not to be mesmerized by my job. I know it’s incredibly exciting.”

“It is interesting! Why did you switch over to the organics?”

“We had a bigger spread but it was increasingly harder to compete against the big factory-farm industry.” He shrugged. “My uncle wanted to retire and give me the operation, so I had to figure out what I wanted to do.” It had happened at a point in his life when he was at a low. In love with a woman who loved him back, just not enough. So he’d sort of leapt. Seeking something totally new. While it had taken him another year and a half to break things off with Anne for good, the shift to an organic operation had been easier to accept.

Traditional farming had been the family business, but he and his uncle spent all their time trying to stay afloat and ahead of loan payments. He’d read a number of pieces about organic farming and had done a lot of research into all sorts of ways to go about it. When he’d presented a business plan to his uncle, the old man had grinned, slapped his back and thrown all his confidence and support Royal’s way.

“I proposed that we sell off all but fifty acres and move from two major crops to several smaller organic crops to sell to restaurants, start a CSA box, and to distribute to local farmer’s markets and grocery stores who carried organic produce.

“It took a while. You can’t just not use pesticides and call yourself organic. There’s a process. Lots of hoops to go through. About two years from the day I decided to give it a go, we planted the first crops. Last year we added the CSA box. We work with several small farms and have three hundred subscribers in this area. Next year we might work with one in the Atlanta metro area, but I don’t want to expand so fast we screw up our balance. We hit the local farmer’s markets, and many grocery stores within a sixty-mile radius stock our stuff. We’re going step by step at this point. Some stuff works, other stuff not so much. I like being a farmer, you know? This land has been in my family for generations so it means something to me to continue on with my own stamp on the place.”

“Wow, this is awesome. Congratulations, Royal. I’d really love a tour. I used to get a produce box back in Seattle. I was just thinking I needed to look around for one here.”

She wasn’t just saying it, wasn’t flattering to fill the silence. Her eyes were warm, her smile open, and something about that appealed to him a great deal.

“I think I can hook you up with both a tour and a subscription.”

She talked with her hands. Animated. Her face open and full of emotion. Having a conversation with Caroline Mendoza was a full-speed race one minute and a slow drive through the country at sunset the next.

She exhilarated him. She was interesting. Fascinating really. Beautiful. Funny. Smart too.

“So why did you come back?” He held up a hand. “Feel free to skip that question if it’s too personal.”

“I came back because”—she took a bracing gulp of beer—“I don’t like not handling things.”

He sat back, patient enough to let her speak at her own pace.

“I like having my shit under control. I like facing things that make me worried or sad. I know my grandparents on my dad’s side. My abuela is still alive and raising Cain. I’ve got a big, close-knit family in Los Angeles and Portland. My uncle and his partner live in Long Beach. I have three other uncles, two of which also live in Southern California, the third in Portland. They’re married and have kids. I’ve got great-aunts and great-uncles, cousins and second cousins. I know them. They know me. I can show up on any of their doorsteps and not have to knock before going inside.”

Royal nodded. “That’s a good feeling.”

She smiled, feeling understood. “It is. They keep me grounded and loved. I never had to…” She sighed. “I never have to hide my whole self when I’m with them. It’s comfortable and good, and I miss them all very much.

“But there’s this space.” She pressed the heel of her hand over her heart. “My sister and brother should be part of that in my life. I love them both so much. But I’m closer to my cousins than I am to my own siblings. I knock when I visit my grandparents. I schedule time to spend with my sister and brother. My brother who calls himself Shep like half of himself doesn’t exist.”

She nodded her thanks when he poured her some more beer.